fun

Lou and Lynn Part 17 Family Bonds: A Day of Hard Work and Laughter

Uncle Albert was in his sixties, the weathered family patriarch. He’d had a hand in raising all his sister’s children since their father died young. They were all well aware that they might have starved without him. He was grouchy and not particularly fond of youngsters, so the young cousins had learned to steer clear of him.

Well-digging was an arduous task. A sturdy frame was built over the chosen spot. The nephews took turns using a pick and shovel to dig. Others pulled up buckets of the hard, red clay. Before long, they were all shirtless and sweating. Despite the difficulty, the work continued at a rapid pace since there was always a fresh worker to take the place of a fatigued one.

They enjoyed working together and laughed frequently.
The women laid out a feast and called the children to eat before calling the men. Lou had never seen so such a large family. There must have been twenty children, most under twelve. Lynn had three cousins her age. Billy had three his age. There was a gaggle of babies and toddlers. There was never a quiet moment. The frantic mothers served their children plates of potato salad, beans and fried chicken and sent them off to sit on the ground and eat. The kids gobbled what they wanted and wasted the rest, rushing back to play.

The men crowded around the table, heaping their plates high. The women served themselves last. “This sure is some fine cooking.” one said.

”Pass the beans!” said another. They teased each other and the women all through the meal.

”Ronnie! Get out’a the road.” shouted Aunt Bessie! “Don’t make me get my switch.”

Warnings were frequently shouted at the wild children if they went near the well, hill, or river.

Lou had never played so excitedly. There were simultaneous games of baseball and hide and seek. General chaos ensued when younger children got too close and went down like bowling pins.

There were scoldings and swats aplenty when kids pushed their harried mothers too far, something that Lou had never seen. Most amazing of all, Lou was introduced to the outdoor toilet, a crude outbuilding built over a hole in the ground. “This is gross!” Lou said as she examined the facilities.


“You think this is gross! Wait till it’s been here a while. Whew!” Lynn laughed. “You won’t stay any longer than you can help”

They’d all been warned away from the log cabin in progress but eventually the parents’ vigilance wore thin. Mothers were putting the youngest ones down to nap on pallets. Suddenly, a rumble, clatter and shrieking came from the cabin. A couple of kids had slipped in and climbed on the log walls, collapsing them. Fortunately, nothing more serious than scrapes and bruises resulted.

Uncle Albert was clearly furious at the destruction of the cabin he’d worked so hard on. “You little devils. Y’all was told to stay out’a there! If you was mine I’d tan yore sorry hides.” The culprits were sternly lectured and some spanked by their fathers. The embarrassed men left the digging to the others and spent the rest of the day restacking logs. They brought them to an even higher level to make up for their boys’ bad behavior. Uncle Albert’s mood improved as the walls grew higher, though he continued to glare at the reckless boys.

As the day dragged on the sun went down and mosquitoes started to bite. Somebody built a bonfire. Mothers put insect repellent on the children and began to rock their sleepy babies.

”I sure wish they would knock off so we could get these kids home to bed.” Aunt Kat said.

”I know.” said Aunt Bonnie. “ They’re gonna have to finish tomorrow anyway.”

The kids raced in and out of the shadows of the fire, drunk on the joy of cousin-play. Finally the men gave up their digging, making the decision to continue Sunday morning. Sleeping babies were loaded in to vehicles for the trip home. Lynn, Lou, and Billy climbed into the back of the truck. Aunt Kat wrapped a them snuggly in an old quilt.

”Mother, it’s too hot!” Billy protested.

”It won’t be when we get going.” Aunt Kat said.

Sure enough, as soon as they started it was cool. The night was glorious. They looked up at the brilliant stars in the dark sky while bouncing along the wooded road. They were asleep before they’d gone a mile.



To be continued:

Lou and Lynn Part 15 The Pea-Shelling Party: A Tale of Community and Fun

Mr. Al had to work the three to eleven shift that afternoon. Just before he was to leave for work, a peddler came by selling peas. Mr. Al came in carrying a huge load of peas. Aunt Kat looked appalled. “Oh no! I was planning to do laundry and mop this afternoon. Now we have to shell peas!” She spread a clean sheet on the floor and Mr. Al poured out the peas. A heap about two feet high covered three-quarters of the sheet.

“I know said Mr. Al “but we have to get peas when they’re available. These should get us through the winter.”

“I know, “ said Aunt Kat, “but it will be a big job for me and the kids to get these done by ourselves. They’ll go bad if I don’t get them in the freezer tonight.“

“I’ve gotta go. I gotta pick up Arnie for work. I’ll see if Betsy and her girl can come help.”

“That would really help.” She cheered up, knowing they would probably come help. They often helped each other on big jobs.

Soon enough, Miss Betsy and Sharon peeked in the front door. “Yoo hoo! Your help’s here.” called out Miss Betsy.

“Oh, thank you! I couldn’t imagine how I’d get all these done. Girls, get everybody a pan and let’s get started.” Lou had never seen peas shelled but she caught on quickly. The bad thing was, the purple of the pea shells stained her hands and under her fingernails. Aunt Kat told her it would wear off in a day or two.

Miss Betsy was a lot of fun. She had them laughing hysterically over her stories. Even the big baby liked her. The best thing was, Sharon loved babies. She held the little baby all the time except when the she napped. She teased Connie and kept her giggling.

Aunt Kat introduced a game called gossip they could play as the pile of peas decreased. The leader whispered a few words into the ear of the person next to them. The words couldn’t be repeated once spoken. The whispered message obviously got mangled as it passed from person to person. The last person in line revealed the message. It was hilarious. The original message “My kitten has blue eyes,” turned into “My wigwam has fried pies” They played till everyone got a chance to whisper the starting message.

After that, they all sang songs. It was like a party. Even seven-year-old Billy took his turn leading them in song. They played I Spy. They were making tremendous progress on the pile of peas when Aunt Kat took a break to make peanut butter sandwiches and kool aid for the pea shellers. By the time they were through with the peas, it was getting dusky dark. “We’d better head home before it gets too dark,” Miss Betsy said.”We have flashlights” We heard them singing far down the road.

We’d shelled two big dishpans of peas. They’d be eating peas long after I was back home. That almost felt a little sad.

Unlike washing dishes, the pea-shelling party was fun. I wished it could have gone on longer.

I was exhausted when I went to bed, too tired to talk. Loua woke me upu still had the big light on when I went to sleep. She was awakened by Grandma humming, “You are My Sunshine.”

“Grandma, I knew you’d get me home! I woke up in my own bed this morning.” said Lou, excitedly.

“Quiet!” said Grandma. “They can’t hear me but they can sure hear you. I almost messed up this morning l. It’s a wonder I didn’t spaghettify you. I can’t take that chance agin. I tried to get the bike and tore it in half. You’ll see in the morning. I’m not going to try again till I’m sure. You’re going to be here a little longer.”

“Where are you? Lou asked.

“ I think between yesterday and tomorrow. I like it. The strange thing is, a person can be in more than one place at a time. You are still at home with your parents and you are here. I’m trying to get all of you safely together at home. I’m at home and here in between.” said Grandma.

“So that’s why Mom’s not worried. I’m home, too.”

“Yes, it is but I will get you home. Don’t get discouraged.” Grandma said.

“I’ll try.” said Lou. I’m actually having a lot of fun. I like Lynn. She seems kind of familiar.”

Grandma seemed a little somber.”I won’t be back for a while. I’m getting some help from some really smart guys. We will get you home!”

The next thing she knew, Aunt Kat was waking her up.

To be continued:

Lou and Lynn Part 2 Adventure to Find Grandma

“I still need to find Grandma.” Lou remembered, reaching for her backpack. “Oh no! I left my phone in my backpack. How can I call Grandma, now? Can I use your phone?” she asked, reaching out to Lynn.

“We don’t have a phone. The lines don’t reach this far out in the country. When Mother has to use the phone she goes to Mr. Jones’s store and pays him fifteen cents.

“Your grandma is probably up at the house with Mama, anyway. There’s nowhere else to go, It’s a mile to the nearest neighbor.” Lynn bounced up and pulled down an old bag swing attached to a rafter. She gave a huge push and raced high up the hay. “Swing it again!”

Lou pushed it hard. Then again. Lynn and hopped onto the swing at its peak, her legs wrapped tightly. The pack of dogs went wild barking and snapping at the swing as it skimmed over their heads. Lynn flew high enough to kick the top of the open doors, scoring an exciting ride till it fizzled to a stop.

Jumping off, she shouted. “Your turn! Climb up on the hay!”

Climbing the hay was the easy part. Lou’s head almost touched the tin roof of the barn. The rain pounded just above my head. Lynn pushed the swing till it gained enough height for me to jump on it. The dogs anxiously waited for their turn to jump at her.

“I’m scared! If I miss, I’m a goner!” Lou complined.

“We do this all the time! You’re not gonna fall…..and if you do, you’ll probably land on a dog.” assured Lynn.

That made sense. There were dogs to spare. As she swung higher and higher, Lou grabbed the rope, held her breath, and jumped, wrapping her legs tightly. Wild horses couldn’t have pulled her off. That leap was the biggest thrill of her life. Laughing hysterically, she kicked the top of the barn doors wishing she could fly forever. Lynn pushed Lou over and over, then jumped on with her. The dogs joined in the fun, chasing and barking.

Though Lynn is lots of fun, Lou didn’t forget she needed to find Grandma as soon as the rain stopped.

Lou and Lynn Part 1 Memorable Moments: Riding Bikes with Grandma

Grandma was old and slow but could be cool sometimes. She was funny, always ready to play with Lou. Best of all, when Lou they got to spend the night together, Grandma told her stories. Not the “once upon a time kind” but stories about when Grandma was a kid. She must have been a cool kid from the tales she told. The stories went on until Lou went to sleep.


Grandma was horrible at video games, so one day they decided to find something else to do.
Once they got outside, Grandma was worried about riding a scooter. She poked along on an old bicycle, wobbling every time she hit a little bump. “Whoa! Don’t go off and leave me!” It was hard to ride that slowly. Lou rode in circles so Grandma could keep up.

They didn’t get too far before Grandma needed a break. It must be exhausting being that old. Lou was dizzy from the circling anyway. As they parked under a tree and dug into their snack bags, a bolt of lightning split the sky, Thunder crashed all around them. Soon, it was raining so hard they couldn’t see as far as the road. Lou wished she was safe at home with her parents.

Grandma was upset. “There was’t a cloud in the sky when we left! How did this pop up?”

”What are we gonna do? Lou asked. “I’m scared!”

”I don’t like it either” Grandma said. Just then, another ear-splitting crash of thunder rattled the sky.

The next thing Lou knew, she was picking herself up off the ground, surrounded by fallen pears. Grandma must have been scared and run off. Lou was surprised. She didn’t think Grandma could get out of sight that fast, The sun came out. As Lou looked around, a girl fell out of the tree, almost on top of her. She dusted off her shorts and picked up a couple of pears. “Wow! You have a bike. I wish I had a bike! Do you want a pear?”
Lou had never had a pear straight from a tree, nor even seen a pear tree.

“Nah! I’ve got a juice box and some grapes in my backpack.” When Lou looked around, neither her backpack nor Grandma was anywhere in sight.

”Where am I? Where’s my grandma? She was just here.” Lou was confused.

”You’re on my family’s farm and I never saw your Grandma. We’ll look around for her. What’s your name? I’m Lynn. Come on!”

“I’m Lou and I have to find Grandma I don’t remember being this far from town. There’s not even a real road here.” Lou kicked a rock out of the dirt road.

“Come on, Lou. It looks like a break in the rain! Let’s get in the barn before we get soaked!” Lynn took off running, her ponytail bouncing. Her bare feet kicked up a dust. How in the world could she run like than on rocks?

Rain pelted the girls as they dashed in the huge barn doors. As Lou’s eyes got used to the shadows, she saw dust dancing in the sunbeams in through the big open doors. The strange smell made her sneeze. Huge stacks of hay were stacked high up the barn walls, reaching all the way to the ceiling. A few big dog flop-eared dogs burst through the open doors, barking like the they were having a contest. Jumping up on the stairs steps of hay, they rolled around drying themselves off. A big one jumped on a couple of puppies like she was going to tear them apart!

”Stop them’” Lou yelled. “That big dog is going to hurt those puppies!” Lynn didn’t act worried at all.

”Nah. That’s their mama. She’s just teaching them some manners. Here puppies.” At that, the puppies bounced down like rubber balls, licking Lynn for all they were worth. “These silly guys always think I need a bath.”

By now, the rain was pounding the roof so hard Lou had to shout to make herself heard. “Is this a tornado?”

Lynn laughed.”No. It’s fine. Haven’t you ever heard rain on a tin roof?

To be continued

Uncle Albutt Part 5

Quite often, our family and friends would gather for a late evening meal.  While the kids ran wild in the dusk and on into the darkness, the women prepared a filling meal of beef stew or chili and cornbread.  It would be near bedtime by the time they called us in, hysterical  with chasing each other in and out of the darkness.  Of course we’d been warned against running in the dark, but staying in range of the lights was for sissies.  I’d be in a delicious frenzy of terror till I stepped back into the light, where all horrors vanished.   They would be so many kids we’d be settled on the floor with our supper in a pie or cake pan.  This was before budgets stretched to include paper plates.  It was an honor to sit on the floor with the big kids.  Babies and toddlers sat at the tables where their mamas could keep a grip on them.  Two or three dinners were always dumped on the floor and there was squalling a’plenty as mamas cleaned up the mess and resettled the messy kids.  The kids finished in short order and tore back outdoors while the adults took their turn at the

After the meal, it wasn’t unusual for the men to load up their guns, flashlights, thermoses of coffee, and the dogs for a night of hunting, leaving the women and children to visit.  Mamas gave their kids a cursory wipedown with a washcloth before bed, since it wouldn’t have been possible to bathe that many children and settled them on pallets on the floor, sometimes as many as six to the bed.  Mamas rocked the knee babies and lap babies to sleep before putting them on a bed flanked by pillows once the settling down started, the women started their stories.  I loved these nights, especially if Mawmaw was there.  She believed in ghosts and could make our blood run cold.  Mother worried about nightmares, but lacked the courage to shush her mother-in-law, for which I was grateful.  I NEEDED those stories. Mawmaw thrilled us with tales of babies buried alive, girls who died of broken hearts when their dead sweethearts appeared to them, and big black ghost dog, and ball lightning rolling through the house. The kids didn’t dare move off the pallet, they were so terrified. Fatigued by their play, finally they drifted off to sleep, one by one.

As the women talked, they thought they heard an intruder trying to get in the front door. Someone else scurried to check the back door, unsure if it was locked.  .  Had there been an intruder, he’d have had a horrible shock breaking in on half a dozen  terrified women and a gaggle of children.  Meanwhile Mother hurried to the door.  Thinking she’d scare him away with a bluff, she called out.  “I’ve got a gun.  I’m gonna shoot through the door!”

Aunt Jewel stood right behind her.  Obviously terrified, she shouted out.  “Well, don’t just stand there!  Go git your gun.  You ain’t got no gun!”  Fortunately, there was no intruder, or he thought he’d better not break in, since nothing happened.

 

Camping Lessons: Spare Glasses Saved Me from Disaster

   image Dirty Dog

image

We just got back from camping on the Gulf Coast.  We had fun and I learned a couple of things. First of all, if you think you might fall and bust your fanny, carry your extra glasses.  I was standing behind the trailer trying to wave Bud in as he backed the trailer up and Buzzy wrapped me in his leash, plopping me flat on my keester. I fell flat, banging right on my glasses.   I hadn’t gotten in Bud’s line of vision yet, so he thought I’d wandered off, as I am prone to do.  He continued backing up, but fortunately I was able to get out of the way before he flattened me.

Although the fall did kill my glasses, I escaped.  I was worried whether I would have a black eye, but luckily I didn’t.  If I had, I would have to have blacked both Bud’s eyes or I would have been ashamed to be seen when we met friends later.  I was able to get the frames replaced, using the same lenses.  What a relief.  I had dreaded trying to get by with just reading glasses till I could get new ones made.  I will never go off without a spare again.

Buzzy had a fine time camping as always.  We patrolled the camp several times a day.  He got to meet new dogs, see an alligator, smell the Gulf, roll in some different flavors of mud, walk on the beach, and sleep in the camper.  His favorite part of camping is sitting on the bench seat between us at meals.  He doesn’t get a place at the table at home.

Aunt Ader’s Place Part 2

dog-trot

House much like Aunt Ader’s

Not understanding the nature of inebriation, I assumed Uncle Dunc, a great name for a drunk, was just playful when he laughed at all our jokes and fell off the high porch chasing us. No one bothered to explain for years that Dunc was a drunk. He was one of my mawmaw’s youngest siblings, younger than some of her own children.  Her mother, Cynthia, was a scandal, having been twice divorced before she married John Miller.  John only lasted long enough to father a daughter and twin boys in quick succession before dying of lead poisoning.  He was shot in a bar fight, likely saving him from the heartbreak of his fickle wife’s habit of spousal abandonment.  Presumably, his son Duncan was the bad apple that didn’t fall too far from either parental tree. 

Aunt Lucille’s demeanor didn’t match Uncle Dunc’s.  She was a dour, strait-laced woman not given to smiling, though it’s not likely she had much to smile about, considering her life with Dunc.  She looked a lot like Smokey the Bear in a dress. I have not seen a woman more hirsute before or since.  Her unibrow and mustache dominated her round face and coarse, black hair, resembling pubic hair covered her legs, though I had no knowledge of pubic hair at the time. After a visit there, Daddy always warned against us girls against shaving our legs or we’d end up with legs like Lucille.  I was far too young at the time to be aware of leg-shaving anyway, but I certainly didn’t want Smokey the Bear legs.

Most of the time when we visited Uncle Dunc’s place, many other aunts, uncles, and cousins were there. Huge dinners of fried fish, barbecue, or fried chicken were served up, the first shift to ravenous children who ate scattered about the floor or maybe on the porch. This was in the days before paper plates, so dishes were quickly washed before setting the second table for adults. By this time knee babies were nodding off in their father’s arms and younger babies put to the breast. After dark, a propane lantern hanging on the big front porch cast a cone of light where dozens of cousins chased each other hysterically in and out of the shadows. Parents visited in the cool of the front porch.  Mamas rocked babies and put them down to sleep on pallets just inside the house where they could be heard if they cried out. 

Sometimes times there would be home-made vanilla, peach, or banana ice-cream made in hand-cranked freezers.  The evening usually ended when exhausted kids were called in for ice-cream, but on the best nights, the old folks launched into deliciously terrifying ghost stories, made all the better because the teller believed them.

cousins

A few of my forty first cousins.

To be continued

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20 thoughts on “Aunt Ader’s Place Part 2”

  1. Pingback: Aunt Ader’s Place | Nutsrok – Br Andrew’s MusesEDIT
  2. patriciaruthsusanGreat memories, Linda. :) — SuzanneLikeREPLY EDIT
  3. Aunt BeulahAh, the fun of screeching around with cousins big and small as dusk falls and our parents talked and laughed on the porch or in the house. I’ll never forget it. And don’t you think everybody has an Uncle Dunc of one failing or another in their family tree? I know we did. Great post, one that opened me to many memories.Liked by youREPLYEDIT
  4. http://www.salpa58.wordpress.comOh Linda, this is hysterical. I can relate to most of it and I am sitting here laughing out loud. Your aunt with all the bear hair sounds like she might have had some Italian in her. Very hairy group, I can attest to that. On the bright side you don’t see too many bald Italians. :o)
    Loving this one and looking forward to reading more.Liked by youREPLYEDIT
  5. Let’s CUT the Crap!So nice to have family around you. :-D Forty cousins. Wow.
    Your stories are every entertaining.
    Woe is me. I come from a family of women once my dad passed away. Thank goodness one of my four sisters had a boy.Liked by youREPLYEDIT
  6. Annette Rochelle AbenHook me up with the ice cream… Crazy but my mom had an older brother named Duncan. He passed very young, in fact she never met him.Liked by youREPLYEDIT
  7. olganmAnother great image. And I like the sound of the ghost story telling…:)Liked by you and 1 other personREPLYEDIT
  8. Soul GiftsThe image of the hirsute Smokey the Bear is now stuck in my head !! Thank God I stopped shaving my legs :)Liked by you and 1 other personREPLYEDIT
  9. Judy MartinThis is great Linda. It must have been such fun for you at the time. I am so glad you have such a good memory and are sharing your stories of your colourful relatives with us! :-)Liked by you and 1 other personREPLYEDIT

Nutsrok Illustrations by Kathleen Swain

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Jamey Awful’s Birthday Party Adventures: Tales of the Mean Turkey and Bugeater

Awfuls chasing turey
Awfuls chasing turkey

 

Awfuls in Pigpen
Awfuls in Pigpen

(Continuation of story of Jamey Awful’s birthday party, without a doubt, the most fun I ever had in my life.  If he gave a party today, I’d be there!)

Jamey’s birthday party was incredible. There was no sappy “Pin the Tail on the Donkey”, no party hats, just fun, fun, fun. Mama Awful didn’t concern herself with us, leaving us on our own.  Of course, we ran wild, ripping through mud puddles, jumping out the barn loft, and robbing chicken nests.  We splatted eggs against the side of the barn and climbed into fig trees breaking off a branch or two. My sandals were long gone and the skirt of my dress ripped from the waist band.  The sash ties were mud-caked.  From the look on Mother’s face when she walked over to get me, I could see she was not happy, not even going in for coffee like she usually did at neighbor lady’s houses. “I ought to tear you up for running wild like that, losing your shoes and tearing up your new dress.”


“But Mama, we was just playing.  We didn’t mess up nothing in the house!” I protested.  I usually got in trouble for meddling with people’s whatnots when we went to visit, a terrible wrong.

“ Don’t dispute my word!” she hissed through clenched teeth.  “”You’re never going over there again!”  My heart fell.  Surely she didn’t mean it!

I figured Mother would forget after a few days, but no……….No visits to the Awfuls. If they noticed they were being snubbed you couldn’t tell. We were always ready to play with them if they rambled through our yard on the way to bigger and better things. During this time Daddy brought home a huge, mean turkey, to fatten for Thanksgiving. He was a monster jumping, spurring,  and flogging us with when we had to feed the chickens and gather eggs. He even got bolder and started flying over the fence to attack us in our own territory. We stayed as far away as we could, but he ambushed us if he caught us off guard.

My personal favorite among the Awfuls was Junior who enjoyed a special claim to fame. He ate bugs and other strange items. He ate his first bug on a dare and liked it, saying it tasted like peanuts. From that time forward, he was generally known as Bugeater. The kids in the neighborhood took pride in finding the biggest, strangest bugs for him to eat. Bugeater did have standards, refusing to eat worms.

Before too many days, we were lucky enough to have Jamey, Bugeater, and Davey pay us a call. “Where’s that bad turkey?  I wanta see it.” demanded Jamey.  

“He’s out in the chicken yard but you better leave him alone! He’s real mean!”  I pointed out.  I watched them head for the chicken yard, wanting no part of that turkey.

Sure enough, that old devil turkey flew at them, ready to do battle. They screamed and ran like crazy, but not in the cowardly way we had. “Whoo whoo!  Turn turkey run!” they shrieked, chasing him all over the chicken yard, flogging him with their caps and sticks.  The terrorized turkey finally escaped up into the trees and stayed there till they sauntered off.  

“That ol’turkey ain’t so bad,” Jamey said as they banged the gate shut on the way out.

”Wait, where are you going?  Don’t you want to play?”  I liked them even better now.

”Nah, We’re going crawfishing over in Donnie Parker’s ditch.”  Jamey replied, ruining my day.

That turkey’s spirit was broken.  He never bothered us again. I liked those kids even better than ever after that.

I gave Mother a little time to forget before asking to go to the Awfuls. One golden day, she had a headache and wanted to rest on the sofa until her head felt better. We played quietly for a few minutes till she went to sleep. “Mother, can I go play with the Awful’s?” I whispered.  She didn’t say no, so off I went.

The Awfuls had the best place in the neighborhood. Overgrown bushes tangled into the fence so the yard was a jungle, a great place for adventures. Tall grass and junk in the yard made it easy to hide. We chased the sleeping hound dogs out of the abandoned cars and played cops and robbers. We pulled broken boards off the barn for fort-building. Best of all, there was a big tree with low-hanging branches by the front door. “Look at this!” Jamey shouted.  I followed  the boys up the tree and through a window into the attic. From there, we dropped through a hole into the living room ceiling and sneaked behind the furniture into a back bedroom where daft, old grandma was in the bed.

“Aigheeeeeeee!” she screeched, clutching her blankets like she’d seen a ghost. 

“Y’all git out’a there!  Don’t git your Granny stirred up.  I got a headache” yelled Mama Awful over the TV.

They showed us a secret way out through a hole in the floor of her closet. Pelting each other with dirt clods from their bare yard, I’d never felt so free.

Eventually, Mother came stomping over.  “What are you doing over here?  Don’t you ever go off without asking!” she said.  “I’m gonna tear you up!”

“But Mama, you said I could go!” I whined. dreading a switching.  “ I asked when you was layin’ on the couch.” I told her.  

I could see she remembered. “You knew I was asleep.  Don’t you ever pull that again.” she threatened. Sadly, that was my last visit to the Awful’s house.

Not too long afterward, the Awfuls showed up with little Becky Awful in tow. She was about three and overdue to join their traveling show. Daddy was unhappily cleaning out a clogged septic line, bailing nasty stuff into a wheelbarrow.  Not in a great mood, he sent the Awfuls on their way, not noting that Becky had remained behind playing quietly off to the side. She was making mud pies with clean white sand and septic drain sludge. As soon as he saw her, he howled for Mother. “Kathleen, get this kid out of here!  She’s playing in this excrement(paraphrased) and nasty as a pig!  Do I have to do everything?”  

“Bill, I didn’t know she was out there.”  Mother washed Becky a little under the hose and led her home.  Becky was so filthy and smelly it would probably have been easier to get another little girl than to try to clean her up. As it turned out, that wasn’t a problem. Becky showed up two days later in the same malodorous outfit.

Since we couldn’t visit the Awfuls anymore, we had to make do with whatever crumbs of joy they tossed our way. My parents had their noses out of joint because Mr. Awful had shut his pigs up in a small lot between our house and theirs. Not surprisingly, it really, really stunk. Mother had us helping her hang laundry on the line when we heard a huge ruckus next door. It seems Mr. Awful had noticed Jamey’s missing birthday shoes.  “You boys get out there and find them shoes or I’m gonna tear you up.  We ain’t got money to waste on shoes.”  he roared. I could have told him where one of them was, but Mother shushed me up. The boys made for the pigpen, wading around, looking in the muddy black hog-wallows seeking the lost shoes. Of course, it wasn’t long before Bugeater slipped and fell, then Davey, then Jamey. They forgot about the shoes and were streaking through the pig mud. Mud showered everywhere. The beleaguered pigs cowered in the corners, trying to save their bacon. Eventually, Mr. Awful came out in the yard to check the progress of the shoe search. Finding them in the pigpen meant big trouble. He pulled a spring of grass and threatened to switch them if they didn’t find the shoes.

“No don’t whoop me,” whined Jamey. Then the other boys chimed in.

“He backed down. “ Well, I won’t whoop you, but you gonna have to git a bath before bedtime.

It did my heart good to see they could get in trouble. It’s hard to live next door to kids with a perfect life.

Lighthearted Moment

This is my paternal grandmother, Mettie Martha Knight Swain. I never knew her to look this lighthearted. With forty-one grandchildren, she probably had PTSD from bad kids since she usually lived with her fertile daughters.